Destructive Dependence
by thursdaywench
Summary: Sam deals with Dean's actions from the finale in a destructive way.  He's not alone in his feelings, however. not smut.  Sam!Angst. slight Limpage.  Protective!Dean towards the end. R&R is love.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: WOOHOO for the plot bunny that wouldn't die. So i'm writing 3 fics at once, i do have a life...really. anyway, for anyone who really loves the angst of Sam, have fun kiddies! Reviews are like candy! Thanks to my Twisted Sisters (Glitz and Squee- excellent authors, check 'em out) for the betaing and mad crazy brainstorming. The Judges, however, will get smacked.  
_

* * *

The mansion echoed with the screams of dying vampires. As knives descended upon undead necks, the dusty, empty estate stood witness to slaughter and to degradation. But unbeknownst to the house, it would also be witnessing the convergence of two disconsolate souls in a violent and tragic event.

Joining with Bobby, the Winchesters sought out and destroyed the nest of a particularly sadistic horde of vampires. Centered in Annapolis, Maryland, the stately house laid dormant after its occupants had been brutally murdered. As Sam had skimmed the newspaper articles, he couldn't help but laugh with derision as the cops called it a serial killer with a barbecue fork. Lately, his patience with the rest of humanity was short lived. They were so stupid as to what went on around them, why couldn't they possibly let the thought of vampires enter their mind? It also lent itself, no doubt, to the numerous duplicities he had witnessed and been privy to before his short-lived death. Sam had thought he had an unshakable faith in his race, mankind. Now, he just wished they would go away.

Now, as Dean, Bobby, and Sam all stalked and killed their prey, he felt nothing but the excitement of the hunt, the adrenaline, as it coursed through his body. Keeping a machete between his hands and an eye darting around the dark corners, Sam entered a high ceilinged, dust covered room. Judging by the endless sheet-strewn shelves, it was the library of the house. But books didn't interest Sam at this point. Any other day, any other time, he might have pursued the titles. But with his current state, and the figure in front of him, Sam didn't care if they held the answers to his dismal life. His attention was transfixed on the sight in the center of the drafty room. A woman, a vampire, lounged in a wing-backed chair, one knee draped over the plush arm, foot jiggling in an endless beat. Unusual to vampires, the nervous gesture piqued Sam's interest as the other foot stayed planted firmly on the ground, much more to the quiet stillness of the undead. Her face cast in the shadow of the wings of her seat, her lithe body slouching into the furniture's depths. She chewed absently at a fingernail and watched Sam as he edged forward. The noises of her dying kin became background noise as the two faced off.

Sam's confusion further escalated as she made no attempt to rise from her elegant chair. He stood five feet from his opposition, machete raised, muscles bunching under the anticipation of the kill. She laughed, eyes glinting in the twilight of the room, dark hair swishing along her narrow shoulders.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A tourist perhaps? Come to find some thrills?" Her alto voice laced with lazy amusement as she took in Sam and his stance. "But maybe not. Nice Knife, Kiddo." She paused, listening to the far off commotion, realization drawing her lips into sneering pout. "Ahh, I see. You've come to kill me. Well, get it over with. Kill me good, hunter-boy."

Sam lowered the knife, uncertainty edging away his determination. "You aren't going to fight me?" Anger, so quick to boil lately, chased away any trepidation Sam had. "Fight me!"

Something close to hunger flickered in her eyes as she straightened in the chair. "Oh, I will. I'm just waiting for you to catch up to me. Make the experience a bit more tasty." She continued to watch Sam as the energy built up through his spine, begging for release. Her eyes flashed, "Come and get me tiger."

With a savage growl, Sam slashed at her, putting his weight behind the blow. All his training flew out the library's moonlit window as he brought the blade down on her slender neck. He didn't care anymore about the training, the skill set. He just wanted the bloodlust to be sated until he trembled with exhaustion. It overtook him so easily nowadays. Nothing else gave him the thrill, the fear, and the savage joy that the hunt did. He felt alive under its touch. As it pounded through his head, blood rushing through his body, only then could Sam hear his heart beat. Only when he was covered in blood and sweat did he know that he was still among the living. As his chest heaved, he knew he still breathed.

But at the same time, Sam wanted to escape it. Because as blood flowed and air circulated, it was a stabbing reminder of what his brother had done. That in one year, Dean would be dead. The guilt and the sorrow that made Sam's stomach clench was always akin to that angry bloodlust. Sam knew it was his fault. If he had killed Jake in the first place, Dean would be okay. The first time the terrible rage filled Sam was when he shot Jake. The damage done, Sam thought that his own murderer's death would quell the black fog around his heart. It did nothing.

Instead Sam's dark thoughts only titillated to breaking point, seeking more enemies, more blood as he drove the knife towards the vampire's neck, Sam's powerfully built frame chased with hate, guilt, and fury. However, the blade never met its mark, slicing through the upholstery. Sam stumbled into the high-backed chair as the woman slid down and out at an inhuman pace. Sam's adrenaline rose as he spun, sprawled across his landing point. He panted and instinctively brought the blade up expecting a fight to the death.

Instead, the vampire stood hands behind her back and feet together, inspecting him. In the faint moonlight from outside, her eyes sparkled with mirth; Sam could now see they were ocean blue. But the rest of her betrayed no such joy at the hunter's folly. Small yet luscious lips twisted in disdain as her body language spoke plainly of a tired tenseness.

"Now, you are_ too_ easy. God, not even a challenge." The scorn was evident in her voice as she looked Sam up and down. When she spoke next, it was almost to herself and carried and edge of bitterness. "Why do they try? Why are silly humans so fragile?"

"What?" Sam was still breathing hard and heart beating a violent cadence against his chest. Fear, a now foreign emotion, struck at him mercilessly.

"Boredom, little hunter." Her eyes met his, trapping him in her melancholy gaze. "My life- my death- is filled with nothing. Meaningless ice-chips that do nothing to awaken my passions. What is a vampire if she cannot have passion? I am so powerful that even the toughest kills are a light slap. In life I had vibrancy, did great feats that got my blood rushing in my ears. Now, not even my victims' blood rushes. It flows sluggishly like butter in a churn. No heat, no life. Just death. Now, little hunter, what do I do with that? Kill you quickly, another meaningless, joyless snack? Tell me how to awaken my passion, I can smell yours like rain on an overcast day."

Something broke inside of Sam as he listened to her jaded and frustrated admission. He simply stared, piecing together their tangled worlds. Was that not how he too felt? Life after death held nothing if stuck on this earth? He felt the anger leak away, filing on desolation instead.

"Well, are you going to answer? Or shall I rip your throat out and continue on my morbid path?"

"Don't-" Sam was at a loss for words. So used to being alone in his stagnation, he didn't know what to say to someone who felt exactly that way.

"Don't what? Not kill you? Oh honey, that's a guarantee!" She took two slow steps towards Sam in the chair.

"No, wait." He began haltingly, unsure what response he would get. After all, it could mean his life on the line or could be whether he died slowly or quickly. "Look. Believe me or not, I feel the same." He gave a hallow laugh at her incredulous expression. "Yeah, that's what I expected from everyone. I feel nothing, nothing except a wild anger and a crippling guilt. They are the cause and the effect, and only when I hunt, do I feel anything else."

She cocked her head to the side, considering him. "And what do you feel then?" In front of him now, she looked down while Sam craned his neck, unwilling to break eye contact.

"Blood. My heart. Air. My lungs filing and emptying." Confusion and a wretched pain filled his expressive hazel eyes. "I know that I'm still alive. Alive because my brother chose my life above his. I died. And he is going to hell because I am alive."

Her hand reached out and ghosted underneath his chin, holding him as Sam tried to hide his agony. The touch was firm, yet delicate, no violence suggested.

"Blood?" She asked softly, "You feel only blood as rage, passion, lust runs through your veins?" Her agony matched his.

Barely audible, Sam whispered, "Yes."

Her fingers trailed along his jaw-line to find his ear, slowly trickling down to his neck. Their eyes still locked on each other, hunger blazed as a silent plea passed between them. Sam let his head drop to the side as her fingers gently pushed. In one swift motion, the vampire was on his lap. Sam watched with disconnected interest as her fangs slowly descended and her sapphire eyes shimmered in the near dark. A dull _thunk _echoed through the room as the knife slid from his grasp and he moved to clutch at his poison. Hissing, the vampire slapped his hands down, determined to keep him prey and herself predator. Sam stilled, surrendering to what he believed was his end with the dark struggle. As her feral and beautiful mouth sank into his flesh, Sam only gasped and wondered vaguely if Dean would kill her for killing him.

She sucked at Sam greedily, understanding of the hunt and his world beginning to dawn. Sweet spicy liquid passed through her as she felt the hunter's life in her grasp. He let out an involuntary moan as his blood filled her and satisfied her. But even as Sam began to float from light-headedness, the sensation stopped and she broke off, arching her back.

"Oh, sweet glorious night! Such power!" She shivered as Sam struggled to rise, indignation and vexation bubbling inside. Sam or the woman?

"Why...didn't you...finish?" He asked, worn from blood loss, but alive with dissatisfaction.

"Oh, you are too delightful for one big meal. No, I shall revel in Whose resentment our resentment, your power, your succulent rage every night."

Letting loose a cry of frustration, Sam attempted to push her off and to attack the demon on top of him. Alas, in his weakened state, she only hugged her knees tighter again to close in on him. The vampire's lips bruised his with a kiss filled with his blood. She pressed Sam into the chair, making escape impossible. He could only respond to the harsh treatment.

She lept off Sam and the chair, muscles quivering and eyes ablaze with his life. She licked her lips, "You will come to me Sam. Every night you shall give your blood to me because we are the same and thirst for the same. Goodnight, my sweet delicious meat."

Sam sat dumbstruck as she walked to a side door and disappeared.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice filtered from the haze.

"Shit." Sam hurriedly stood up and adjusted his shirt to hide the wound. A wave of dizziness assailed him, causing Sam to clutch the back of the chair as he rode it out. Once it passed, he bent to retrieve his machete and with one last look at the door, Sam left to find his brother.

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_there may be some time between chapters. sorry, i'm working 40plus hours and writing all this..._


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN: sorry this is so long in between UDs. life has been...well, very odd. but we're here now, that's what matters. so carry on, hope you enjoy. reviews are excellent ways to show writers that they actually have readers. thanks, as usual, to Glitz for finding my many mistakes. i don't own Supernatural, why would i be here if i did?  
_**

* * *

Finally recover and the mood is right

Looking up into a neon sky

Child in me takes over, guess it's been too long

Since the last time that I tried to fly

Finally I find when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

All I need's a moment, chance to get away

From the stressfulness of every day

Know if I don't question and I never doubt

Everything is gonna be okay

Finally I find when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

I don't know if I'll be alright

Is it okay to be myself

I don't know if I'll be alright

Why do we always have to fight

I don't know if I'll be alright

Now I know it's alright

Finally I find when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body

I don't know if I'll be alright

Finally I find when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

-_Body Crumbles_, by Dry Cell

* * *

Sam didn't know why he hid the bite from Dean. It wouldn't be the first time that some nasty got one of them back, so it was a credible excuse. He could simply say the demon got the drop on him, that Sam fought it off, and got it after it got him. Still, he stood alone in the bathroom of their rented apartment and dressed the wound himself. He took care to hid the bloody gauze and used alcohol swabs, using the smallest bandage possible. 

Perhaps it was because he was sick of Dean' protective nature, suffocated by the coddling of his older brother. Maybe because he wanted to seem less beatable, tougher. And maybe, just maybe, the sinister part of Sam that he usually kept under tight lock and key was finally surfacing to a higher altitude. The part in him that enjoyed the savagery, and reveling in having something so taboo as a secret. The actual attack was not the most alarming part of his duplicity. No, the penultimate sin in Sam's secret was that it felt like he was committing adultery, his lover's perfume the vampire bite. Sam had, like the proverbial adulterer, enjoyed the moment, later denying and hiding the tryst in guilt. And, like the wronged party, Dean lived under a delusion of happiness, safety and normalcy.

Sam shuddered to think how Dean would react to Sam's treachery. The life of the vampire was gone, without a doubt. But what would his reaction to Sam be? Anger? Disappointment? Disgust? Guilt? Hurt? Cringing, Sam bet on a mixture of anger and guilt; no doubt Dean would blame himself for Sam's anguish and stupid mistakes.

A cold determination and simmering wrath filled Sam as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. There was no warmth in his eyes, no hint of the careful sensitive quality that usually pooled in his hazel gaze as he smiled a wretchedly satisfied smile. _Good_, he thought. He needed a solid malice and stubborn will for what he was to do. He needed to remove the temptation, rid himself of the object of his bittersweet masochism.

* * *

The next day, giving Dean the slip was simple enough. The small mention of 'library' and 'research' had the older brother scurrying for the nearest 7-11 and a 6-pack. Leaving him to his Jack Nicholson marathon, Sam fulfilled the vampire's hypothesis prophecy? on his return. As he checked their stock of dead man's blood in the trunk, Sam wondered vaguely if the blasé bloodsucker would put up a struggle as her supposed savior and donor cut her head off. Moving on to choose from the Winchester's collection of knives, Sam crushed the thought and ran the tip of a blade across his finger, checking its lethal power. Sam's breath hissed through his teeth as it pricked the tip of his forefinger. The dark droplet transfixed his gaze as it welled. Why was he special? Why did she want him, want his blood?

Jerking out of his reverie, Sam shoved a few blades into the duffel and slammed the hood, hinges screaming. He would kill the evil bitch, no way was she going to use him for his blood. Continuing in his rough movements, Sam jammed the key into the ignition and threw it in reverse. Of course, if Dean saw, he would've smacked his little brother upside the head, but Sam didn't care. Every molecule in his body was pumped to breaking point and every sharp movement brought a tiny respite.

Sam reached the mansion in five minutes, no doubt because he drove like a bat out of hell. His strides into the building were long, confident and seething with anger. _She will pay_ was a steady mantra of hate in his head.

But as Sam entered the musty library for the second time, he was greeted by silence. The high-backed ornate chair stood silent; the books still. A breeze filtered through the open window, fluttering sheets that cover most of the room. As the wind reached him, Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _She _was on that breeze, her smell.

Grunting, Sam shook himself, angry that he allowed himself to revel in her scent. But as he looked around for his personal Lestat, the anger simmered, then rose exponentially. She was toying with him, teasing him with the promise of an adventure.

"Show yourself!" Sam's voice thundered and echoed through the room. Nothing answered his furious bellow. "C'mon! I know you're here! Show yourself now!"

A faint laugh floated through the doorway through which she had disappeared before. Her mocking voice followed, "Why little hunter? Do you want to kill me this time? Or is my bite that intoxicating?"

Tension coursed though Sam, threatening to snap. He stomped to that door, puling out his most deadly blade as he went. 13-inches and serrated, it could cut through kevlar. _But bone will do just as nicely, _he thought savagely. He kicked the door back, bringing his knife into a batter's stance, ready to swing at her neck.

Nothing was behind the door- nothing but a staircase leading down. But Sam didn't have a chance to investigate as something heaving crashed into his back, toppling him in the doorway.

Cool breath across his neck made Sam shiver. A pleased voice whispers in his ear. "Love, you've returned. Makes a girl confident, that does."

Well toned leg muscles kept his body pinned as the vampire straddled the hunter's back. Her hands were vise-like on his wrists. Sam wrenched his head back in an attempt to head-butt his adversary. She simply dodged back, laughing at his obvious annoyance.

"I'm gonna kill you." The deadly calm in Sam's voice was only punctuated by his heavy breath. "You won't live past tonight."

Her breath was back, playing along the nape and the sides of his neck. It was like she was deciding which side to strike at. "Oh boy, you still think you will kill me? You need me. You feel nothing without my bite. I saw what my scent did to you. No, you won't kill me."

Sam redoubled his efforts as her words rang true. He fought both himself and the demon trapping his body. "No!"

But they both knew how weak his cry was. Horrified, Sam could feel himself slip into her grasp. She gave a satisfied sound that was nearly a purr. She descended onto his neck, fangs sliding out delicately.

"Wait, not...there." The defeat was evident in Sam's voice.

"Hmm?" All movement went still above Sam. "What's this now?"

"He- He'll know." Shame crept up his spine. He knew that he should kill this vampire, hunt her. But she was the only thing that made him feel anything different from the tension-filled monotony that was the countdown of Dean's life. Sam understood it now. This vampire, poised to strike, was the only being to revive him. Ever since he woke to a stabbing pain in his back and his brother's unexpected hug, Sam felt no relief. From that point, it felt like his spine was filled with iron, his head home to a thousand tons of brick. Tylenol didn't stop the dull throb, and searching for ways to break Dean of his deal made the pain increase. And when Sam thought about his own involvement in the deal, his stomach joined in the cacophony and Sam felt like his body would crush beneath the pressure. Coupled with his usual lack of sleep, he was sure that something was going to explode. His voice was faint as he answered. "Please, not my neck. My brother, he'll kill you. Probably me too, once he figures it out."

Her laugh sent his spine dancing with shivers. "Am I you dirty little secret? Oh, you're so amusing. Sure darling, I'll keep your secret since you are my meal ticket."

The pressure slid off Sam and he scrambled to his feet, knife miraculously still in his hand.

She stood five feet away, glee pronounced on her face. The vampire had her fangs descended, tongue running smoothly along their contours in the prospect of a tasty meal. Though her arms were behind her back, she stayed on the balls of her feet, entire body poised to spring and attack. She noticed the hunting blade. "C'mon tiger, we've been through this. You can't kill me anymore than I can stop with just one taste of you. Now put the nice knife down, and give us what we both want."

Their eyes met, hers gleaming with a supernatural fervor and hunger, his tired and defeated. Sam slumped back into the wall, his long body sliding down until he was folded onto the ground Though not dropping the knife, it was held limply across his lap, left wrist loosely placed on top.

Emitting a small cry of victory, she descended upon that wrist.


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN_: **_**so i'm a jerkface. sorry. i've been writing this chapter since September. let's blame college. seriously, i should drop out just to write. who wants to be my sugardaddy? a big big thanks to the finest beta in the land, Glittergoddesss. without further ado, here ya go. enjoy the angst.**_

* * *

"By taking the equivalent of his life, the victor has not done him a favor; instead of killing him without profit, he had killed him usefully."

-Rousseau

It has been three weeks since Sam first felt the delicate stab of fangs upon his skin. Four days since he last been used to feed a deadly parasite. Every time the night came and he felt her call, a hard determination filled the pit of his stomach. The harsh, electrifying anger that had dogged the younger hunter was gone, long since banished as reason caught up, panting for breath.

And_she _knew it. _She _began to play Sam like a master violinist. When his strength redoubled and he sought to end her with a slash across her throat, the vampire altered her course and satisfied him. Of course, this also gave her access to the biggest vein in the human body, the inferior vena cava. Once again, the hunter became the hunted.

It was simply an addiction now. Sam was a smoker who finally realized that a pack a day was going to kill him. But it was too late now. These four days were a miracle; the longest he'd stayed away from the sadistic creature. Sam liked to think that it was his personal will, but that would be lying. It was cowardice. He was scared to death of Dean and what would happen if his brother found out. Dean finally figured out something was amiss after Sam came stumbling into the apartment after dawn. Sure, it could've been Sam living the life, but his demeanor wasn't sparkling in the afterglow. Sam didn't realize that his inner turmoil was projected like a bad neon sign on a quiet night; he forgot that the brother's could gauge exactly what was going on just by mannerisms.

* * *

"Hey delivery boy, how does my little puppy feel?" 

Sam knew she didn't give a damn about him, that she was only goading him into anger. Apparently blood was sweeter when it boiled. Though by this time, Sam felt no spark, no surge of rage. Sure, there was disgust, resentment, even some pity; but she had long ago sapped any passion from his bones.

He sighed, "A little stale. Time to find someone new to screw up lady."

Her eyes blazed before settling into an exaggerated pout. "Aww, are we feeling sad today? C'mere," she coaxed, "I have a cure baby."

"No." Sam's lip curled. "You're done. Enough. You're finished to-"

"Oh, Come On! How many times must I break you? Shit, you're almost more trouble than you're worth." She began to stalk towards him, as usual when he became belligerent. "You know this never lasts."

"Yeah? Maybe."

They circled, Sam refusing to back down for the first time in what seems to be an age.

"Oh, feisty!" Though she practically shivered in anticipation, there was a tremor or fear beneath the surface. She could feel the difference in the man. Something solid had wrapped its way around his spine, supporting and aiding him.

Sam didn't know why he wasn't giving in this time. Perhaps he was sick of the constant guilt, maybe she finally hit the trigger on his stubbornness. All he knew was that the hunter in him was back and ready for action. He crouched low, watching her as they moved. Patience was the one thing always on his side. The vampire, on the other hand, grew more anxious with each passing moment. Her prey wasn't this controlled before, this focused. She usually counted on their hysteria to open her attack. His blood drew her attention, sending the demon part of her into a frenzy. Her jaw ached to open one delicious vein after another until the sweet metallic liquid coursed through her. The need sent razor sharp shivers through her body, screaming to pounce and feed.

Uttering a savage cry, she flew at her resilient prey. This was the moment Sam waited for. As she sprung off with her right, taking his left, he feinted back, then dove into her attack. They met head-on, claws hooked and fists clenched. A fury of blows were traded as each struggled to gain the upper hand. Soon, both fell back, panting and baring marks of hits taken. Sam's left shoulder was a bloody mess where her claws dug in and ripped. Her face was a mass of healing bruises that he had put there.

She licked at a trickle of blood that formed from her teeth scratching against her cheek, "Oh, this _is_ an interesting turn of events. Lucky I heal so well, darlin'. And lucky I gave more than you returned. I might take it personally."

"Nah, don't think so. I've had better."

They once again circled, this time the vampire more cautious. He _was_ a hunter after all, and her instincts were beginning to eclipse the need. Her easy meal became a hard battle, and she was starved. She delved into years of catching prey and formed a plan. It might hurt her in the process, but the smell of his rich blood intoxicated her better than any drink. Now, she threw to the left, causing Sam to dodge and move towards the wall. Like any good fighter, he was wary of corners and his next attack rolled them together. Favoring his shoulder, he pulled in his lanky form under her and thrust his boots against her chest, sending the demon barreling into the wall. As he scrambled towards the center of the room, she slid down, favoring a dislocated elbow and leaving a body-shaped impression from where she met the wall.

She rose to her feet, swaying slightly as the room spun. Regaining her balance, she snapped the offending elbow back into place. As the sickening crunch echoed through the musty room, she looked at Sam and hissed. All trace of humanity was gone. She had become the demonic animal she was. Fangs were distended and her eyes shone brilliant silver. A hiss once again passed full red lips, swollen with blood in anticipation of the kill.

Sam kept his distance, knowing this was the climax of their battle. He silently prayed that her demon wasn't harnessing any more power; she was difficult enough as it was. He thought that her previous attack was her best. He didn't realize that she was also a strategist and he had fallen right into her trap.

A devilish smile suddenly appeared on the vampire's face, and instead of once again diving into the fray, she leapt. Inhuman strength pushed against the floor and rocketed off the wall. She executed a perfect flip over Sam's head, landing directly behind him. Taken by surprise, the young man didn't have time to react as her fist slammed into his temple. Stars danced and Sam found himself on the floor, her knee against his windpipe and her face close to his.

"Nice try kiddo." Wrapping iron claws around his left wrist, she stretched his arm to its fullest extent, eliciting a groan from the trapped hunter. As she descended on that inviting shoulder wound, she whispered, "Now I'll finish what I started."

* * *

_**so? am i to be axed cause i don't write then come up with cliffwhoreness? ah, well, life was good while it lasted. C'mon. reviews are like Dean, fun to do. oh, and btw. look up inferior vena cava if you don't understand that part. use some imagination. now, wtih me. all say OOOOH. ew. haha.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: hey kids, here's a little chapter to keep ya going. As usual, thanks for awesome beat work, my dear Glittergoddess. now read on! will Dean figure out Sam's problem? **_

* * *

Since Dean was living the nightlife himself, he didn't pause to wonder why Sam was steadily becoming more pale every day, or that he had stopped eating entirely. _The damn kid never eats anyway_, Dean mulishly thought. But when the pestering stopped, when Sam began to actually contribute to Dean's 'darwinism', _then_ worry crept up the elder brother's back. His suspicions rose even further when his OCD brother simply closed his laptop upon seeing the spilled soda on it. Dean's eyes bugged out of his head as Sam turned off the light and flopped on the bed, passing out almost immediately. 

That was five days ago. That next night, Sam quietly opened the door at four in the morning and slipped back inside. He jumped to see Dean sitting at the table, lights on.

"Oh, hey." Eyes flicked down to where two little holes on his wrist lay hidden by flannel.

"Where were you?" Dean demanded.

"Out."

"At four in the morning?" Sarcasm dripped, "Right Sammy, and I'm the Earl of Sandwich. What the hell is going on?"

As Dean's voice rose, his little brother grew quieter. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

But as he hurried into the bathroom and the shower turned on, Dean heaved a sigh and vowed to figure out what the hell was up, even if Sam didn't want him to know.

* * *

The internal argument within Sam came to a boil that fourth night. She was evil, but god, he needed it; the dehumanizing feel of her fangs piercing his skin. He was supposed to be dead. He was less than human. The Demon said he didn't come back right. Sam knew he wasn't supposed to come back at all. So in that moment of utter surrender to her demonic appetite, he felt the guilt wash away, felt like _that_was how it was _supposed_ to be. Of course, she never finished it, so that guilt came right back like a lost dog. 

But at the same time, a new kind of shame went hand in hand with Sam's visits to the she-devil. He couldn't bear to know what Dean would say _when _he found out. His brother wasn't stupid. The war raged inside Sam as he attempted to hide it all. The guilt of being so deeply indebted to Dean caused him to run to _her,_the shame at being her willing food drove him deeper into guilt when he came home to Dean. The cycle was dizzying and painful, Sam stuck on the angst-go-round.

So that night, after the brothers bid each other a rather stiff "g'night", Sam waited until Dean's rhythmic snores resounded. He slipped from between the covers, pulling on pants and shoes with a practiced quiet. He threw a quick apologetic glance to his brother, then left to get his fanged fix.

But as the door closed, deep green eyes snapped open and Winchester followed Winchester.

* * *

Halfway across town, Dean couldn't decide if he wanted to whack Sam upside the head or give him a cookie. Crap, the kid was good at loosing a tail. But while Sam did his best to make sure he wasn't followed, Dean had taught him all those tricks. Dean had learned them from Dad. Apparently, though, Sam learned a few of his own, nearly shaking Dean more than once. As Dean's exasperation reached it's peak, so did his pride in his kid brother. They were both on foot, and Dean stopped short at an intersection. _Dammit!_ Sam had disappeared again. Dean looked in a complete circle, barely noticing a shaggy head bobbing about a foot higher than the rest of the night crowd. He had doubled back. _Son of a bitch! _

Sam finally succeeded in shaking Dean, causing the older hunter much aggravation. As Dean muttered curses on his brother and looked around wildly, he noticed a familiar facade. The house that first brought them here. _What the hell Sammy? _Dean knew from experience that coincidences didn't just happen in their business. But what was his brother doing here? More vamps to hunt? Dean felt a surge of annoyance as he figured that Sam just didn't want Dean involved because of a recklessness that he may or may not have shown in the past. He hurried on, pondering if that old grand house had a few weapons for him to use.

* * *

All that filled the room was a gentle lapping, like a cat eating cream in a deserted kitchen. What the vampire didn't hear was the slight creak of the floorboards. She didn't look up as a pair of boots stepped behind her and her prey. What she _did _notice was the 2-by-4 that sent her reeling across the room and the snarl of a betrayed brother.

* * *

_**AN: sorry about the rather short exposition chapter. i felt it works best this way. c'mon, reviews are like Snow White porn, Dean loves 'em. **_


	5. Chapter 5

Last time, on Destructive Dependence:

_All that filled the room was a gentle lapping, like a cat eating cream in a deserted kitchen. What the vampire didn't hear was the slight creak of the floorboards. She didn't look up as a pair of boots stepped behind her and her prey. What she did notice was the 2-by-4 that sent her reeling across the room and the snarl of a betrayed brother._

* * *

Rolling with the blow, the vampire crouched and hissed at Dean. She still reeled from the impact of the long piece of timber to the back of her skull. Now, as she assessed her new opponent, her tongue ran over her delicate fangs, stained with the blood of a Winchester. They stood with Sam in between them, two armies fighting for the same piece of precious land. Her eyes closed in the revelry of the fresh blood, while Dean frantically assessed his brother's prone form from afar. Relief coursed through him as Sam's chest hitched up in a shallow breath. He wished so bad that he had thought to pack a dagger or a gun. _Dammit Sam, if you weren't so cryptic, i coulda been prepared._

Laughter echoed about the room, snapping Dean's attention back to the undead sadist on the opposite side of the room. "Hmm, so you must be Dean. Yeah," she sniffed the air, "You smell similar...but different. I wonder if you'll allow me a free sample; your brother here has let me have more than a few good meals. He tastes so sweet, like cake. Could you be the sour half? I always find family to be the most appetizing after sampling one. It's quite fun to compare, like being a connoisseur."

"Oh honey, the only sampling going on here is you tasting wood." Dean, likewise, crouched, moving to the left. He wanted Sam out of the middle of the battle.

Much to his irk, she moved so Sam was back between them. "Ooh, I'm terrified. See me a-tremblin'. Mm-hmm, this will be a fine feast. The anger that pounds through both of you is like a rare wine. Sometimes, he even gave me a hangover. You have no idea the sheer power that I've been taking from his veins for the past month." She smiled at the dawning apprehension on Dean's face. "What? Didn't you know how great a donor your brother has been? Tsk tsk. But too bad he's broken now."

"You friggin' bitch. Take in the view, because this is your last night before I send you back to Hell."

She abruptly stood from her defensive crouch, looking at her blood stained fingernails in mock interest. "Like to see you try, Spicy boy. It just stalls the moment that I taste you."

"Then come and get it. I'm told that I taste wonderful." Dean only knew one thing for certain, that vamp wasn't getting _anymore _of _anyone's_ blood. "Though I might be close to expiration date, don't know how those deals work...though I'd hazard a guess that you aren't exactly fresh either."

"What?" She stopped dead, anger glinting in her ice chipped eyes. "That metaphor should've stopped."

"Oh, sorry." The dry wit was evident. "Must have used all my good metaphors on someone who actually matters. Can we fight now?"

A scream of fury ripped through the abandoned library as she coiled and sprang at Dean. The fingernails she was studying before suddenly hooked into claws and sliced down, intent on securing themselves in Dean's coat.

He sidestepped easily and swung the board again, catching her in the back. As she skittered across the floor, Dean noticed with satisfaction that her previous fight was still wearing on her, despite Sam's blood running through her. They moved to the center of the room, the vampire stalking as Dean back away. He allowed her to strike, calculating her punches and drawing her further away from his fallen brother. Finally, as she threw a right hook that shifted her entire weight, he moved right, grabbed her arm, and pulled until her body soared past his head. He slammed her into the ground and within a second, straddled her and brutalized her face.

Claws dug into his jacket sleeves, tearing the khaki. His arms only slowed slightly as the material quickly became shreds. Dean roared as they found purchase on his forearms, drawing deep rivulets. He stopped raining blows and leaned back, relying on his legs to pin his quarry. Instead of taking advantage of his pause, she grinned and brought bloodied talons to her mouth.

"Hmm, salty. Guess I was wrong. Sweetness runs in the family. Please sir, can I have some more?" Her eyes gleamed, playing the psychopath to its fullest. Clearly, the vampire thought this was an easy kill.

"Sorry, kitchen's closed." Dean brought both arms up, clenching his fists together like a flesh covered hammer. But as he swung downward, intent on bashing in her head, she moved lightening fast. Her hands caught his and her hips bucked, upending the hunter. Using his weight and momentum against him, she rolled with him and pinned him in the same fashion Dean had done to her.

"Gotcha." With her hands holding his wrists down at his sides, Dean could make no move to defend himself as she lunged towards his neck. She actually giggled in power-drunken anticipation.

But Winchesters don't go down so easily. As she swooped down for the kill, his head came up to meet hers in a crunch of bone on bone. She stumbled off him, momentarily dizzied by the blunt force. The vampire hissed as Dean got up and they once again faced off. He could tell that his previous jibes goaded her and distracted her focus. So he hissed back. Not in the sinister way, but with all the spit and mock he could muster. He even added a little head-shake, just to really piss her off. It worked wonders. She let out a roar that sounded like an outraged cat. He laughed, but stopped abruptly as she pounced again.

With a muttered "Oh shit." and a roll, Dean thought he had successfully deflected another attack. But as he watched her soar by and execute her own roll, he watched in horror as she once again reached for his brother.

This time, he really did growl, low in his throat. "Get away from him, you bitch." Dean lunged quickly after her, but a small iron fist to his solar plexus knocked him clear to the wall. Several cracks were heard on the way.

She actually laughed as the hunter picked himself up, wincing slightly at what was most likely more than a few broken ribs. "See, that's the problem with you hunting types. " She easily picked up Sam's dead weight by his collar. Eyes locked on Dean's, she slowly licked her way from Sam's shoulder wound up to his neck. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, enjoying both the flavor of her prey and the rush of hot rage flooding off Dean. "You never expect the 'prey' to be a better hunter than you idiots. We're not animals, you dipshit."

Dean stalked towards her, wary of her hold on his younger brother and how much more damage he could take. "Yeah, well, whatever floats your barge sister. Considering the fact that you tear apart people, growl and get all pissy, I'm just gonna stick ya in the animal category for kicks. You don't use a litter box, do you?"

In retaliation, she jerked on Sam's shirt, causing his head to flop dangerously. She struck, fangs centimeters from piercing his exposed neck.

It took every ounce of Dean's will not to launch himself swinging. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke forcefully. "_See_, this is just proving me right. Now, why don't you be a good little vampire strategist , and let my brother go."

"Oh, and how would that work? You gonna attack me some more? Honey, I know those ribs are cracked. I can outlast you anytime." As Dean started forward slowly, she backed up. Both began to play the violent chess game, watching themselves just as much as the other player.

Dean's face lit into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his plan coming together. He now needed to distract her. "Hmm? Betcha a few female types would dare defy you on that one. Okay, more than a few." He tilted his head to give the impression that he was thinking of his many conquests. In reality, Dean's eyes locked on the 2x4 from before, resting behind her heels. As she snorted, his gaze snapped back and the plan was finalized.

"Then you obviously haven't been with a vampire." Her tone suggested they might try.

"Oh, sorry. Been asked already. Answer's still the same: Necrophilia is wrong."

She snarled and dropped Sam, his shaggy head bouncing on the floor. Dean didn't spare a moment to wince as he rolled yet again, but towards his adversary. Landing right at her feet, she reached for his neck, but he ducked and grabbed up the plank of wood. She bent, intent on savoring Dean's blood, at the same time he shot up. As he rose like a cork in water, he brought the wood piece up into an upper cut. The vampire screamed, knocked back by the blow. She rocked against the mantle of the library's fireplace. _Perfect,_Dean thought, _Batter's up._ And he swung the 2x4 in a wide arc that Babe Ruth would've been proud of. The height couldn't have been more perfect as it connected with her head, which in turn connected with the mantle-piece. Trapped between the two unrelenting pieces, the back of her head shattered in a bloody mass. It splattered everywhere: the walls, the fireplace, Dean's torn jacket. His hands were covered in the metallic sticky substance. The body fell to the floor, twitching.

"Argh. Why are they so hard to get to stay dead?" Dean sighed and swung downwards again. He stuck more times than he'd care to count, every blow sending a splash of blood and grey matter up. Finally, the head was ruined. Dean wiped the gore from his hands and looked over at his fallen brother. "What the hell Sammy..."

He wrestled the shredded remains of his jacket from his shoulders and also took the over-shirt off. Kneeling down next to Sam, he wadded it into the open wound. Dean's heart skipped a beat when his brother didn't stir at all. Though the tears seemed shallow, blood continued to seep out, drenching both Sam and Dean's shirts. Dean held his breath as he reached next for Sam's neck, only letting out a shallow breath when he felt the faint pulse of his charge's heart. He started as Sam groaned and shifted.

"Hey there big fella." Dean bunched what was left of his coat under Sam's head. The elder brother wanted to yell at the sheer stupidity of Sam facing the vampire alone, wanted to demand answers. But he didn't. He sat back on his heels as his brother slowly came back to consciousness.

Sam groaned again and his eyes shot open. "Dean! What're you-? Where'd-?"

"Whoa, whoa. Hold up there cowboy. You were playing happy meal to a fat kid at Mickey D's."

"Crap." He rested back and brought a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sam sounded exhausted, and not just because he lost blood. He sighed, "How'd you find me?"

"Hey, gimme some credit, kiddo. I followed you. You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?"

A snort that was somewhere between a grimace and a laugh issued from Sam's mouth

"You ready to get up?"

"Yeah."

Dean snaked an arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled at the lapel of Sam's uninjured shoulder. Both grunting with the effort, they were finally standing, wobbly, but steady.

"Dean! You're hurt too!" Sam tried to push off his protector's hands to see the damage, but Dean wouldn't let go.

"Ahh, it's nothing. The wall was nice to me. C'mon, we need to get you some help."

Steadying his brother, Dean couldn't help but put off his questions in favor of helping. They could mano-a-mano later. Right now, Sam needed blood. Fast.

* * *

It was a mark of how out of it Sam was, that he didn't quite understand "get some help" meant the hospital until they were nearly there. 

His head rested on the back of the seat of the Impala, drifting in and out of consciousness. Everything pounded around him; the little blood left inside his bruised body needed twice the power to get to his lanky limbs, so every thudding heartbeat felt like the slam of a jackhammer. He tried to keep up with Dean's joking commentary about how they must have looked like two drunks getting back to the hotel, and how he was surprised the manager of the place let him drive off. Sam drifted some more as Dean surmised that the amount of blood might have done the trick. Sam floated amidst the hammering in his body, wondering vaguely why they needed the car in the first place.

"WAIT!" Sam's fevered mind suddenly joined it all together. He sat straight up, looking accusatorially at his brother. It didn't really work, however, when he sagged back against the seat, dizzy from the retaliation brought on by his head and shoulder. He groaned, hand over his head, "Where are we going?"

Dean coughed and averted his gaze. He knew that his brother jumped to the right conclusion, and why his reaction was so alarming. "The hospital Sammy, you need blood."

"Dean no...we can't...they're watching..."

"Look at you. You can barely get subject and predicate." Dean gripped the wheel harder and ground his teeth. "_I_can't help you right now. _You_ need this."

"No...they'll catch..us...take you away...please Dean." Sam was failing again. Between the attack, having to struggle back to the hotel, and his little outburst, his body was shutting down. The blood, it never stopped flowing. Problem was, it kept flowing out the cuts. His pallor began to appear the shade of fresh copier paper.

"Sam, there is no way you are going to get better without help, and there is no way in _hell_ I'm giving up on you now. We're doing this. It's final." Dean let the authoritative edge creep into his voice.

There was no answer. Dean stole a glance over at his brother. Sam had faded again, his chest hitching up and down, blood glistening on his shoulder in the moonlight. Dean pushed the gas pedal even further.

"I gotcha, Sammy."

* * *

AN: thanks so much to my wonderful wonderful Beta, Glittergoddess. thanks to the wenches for the death scene inspiration. hehe. i hope everyone enjoyed this. a great way to let me know that is by REVIEWING!!! have a great weekend! and yes, this was written BEFORE last nights episode ;) 


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